


Rebuilding Burnt Bridges

by Grimalkenkid



Series: Three Houses Potpourri [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Jeralt adopts Miklan AU, Miklan's doing his best, Spoilers, Violent Thoughts, but he's still not sure how to be a good brother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 12:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21136478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimalkenkid/pseuds/Grimalkenkid
Summary: (part of my "Jeralt adopts Miklan" AU)Miklan searches for Byleth but finds a helpless Sylvain instead.





	Rebuilding Burnt Bridges

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of my multi-part headcanon post on tumblr about what would happen if Jeralt offered for Miklan to join his mercenary band. You can find it here:
> 
> https://grimalkenkid.tumblr.com/post/188069611039/who-wants-to-hear-my-jeralt-adopts-miklan-au

“Byleth! Where are you?”

Miklan hadn’t been searching for long. With the Imperial army sweeping through Garreg Mach, he didn’t have much time to spare. Every moment he spent on the cooling battlefield, instead of retreating with the rest of the Knights, was another moment he could be found and slain. But the ex-Gautier couldn’t stop. Jeralt asked him to protect his daughter, and by the Goddess, that’s what he was going to do.

But he was losing hope. Dimitri had yelled something about the professor going over a cliff, and Miklan had no reason to believe he was lying. The crown prince might not have seen things correctly, though. That’s what Miklan kept telling himself as he ducked behind a broken wall to evade the gaze of a demonic beast.

“Dammit,” the ex-Gautier hissed under his breath, watching the corded, black hide of the creature disappear from view. “Why did that Imperial bitch have to bring those things here?”

A shiver ran up his spine as he recalled his first encounter with such a beast. Some Crestless Riegan relative, furious about Claude’s sudden promotion to heir, had stolen Failnaught and nearly started a civil war within the Alliance. Byleth’s class had gone to help suppress it, but they almost needn’t have bothered. The Crestless man tried to access the Relic’s full power… and had been consumed by it. The soldiers under his command gave up the fight the instant the black beast appeared, and it fell to the Blue Lions to put that abomination down for good. Miklan’s blood ran cold when they were done, though. He’d once thought about taking the Lance of Ruin for himself, of turning it against the family who denied him his rightful inheritance. If he’d gone down that path, would his fate be the same as that Crestless von Riegan?

Miklan shook the thought from his head. He had a mission and couldn’t let Edelgard’s choice of guard dog thwart him. As he was about to leave his hiding spot, the ex-Gautier happened to glance under the collapsed part of the wall next to him. It was a large slab of stone and mortar that fell at an angle against a nearby pillar, leaving a decent hiding space between it and the ground. It wasn’t anywhere near where Byleth fell, but he still felt the need to look.

Under the rubble, he glimpsed an arm and a shock of red hair. The same shade of red he saw in the mirror every day.

Miklan pushed some of the debris aside with his foot, revealing the rest of Sylvain’s body pinned under the fallen wall. The younger Gautier brother was unconscious but still breathing, alive by some stroke of luck.

For a moment, the ex-Gautier just stared. A resentful voice echoed through his mind,  _ “Break the pillar, and the wall will crush him. You could say he was like that when you found him. No one would even question it. It’s war, after all. Just do it, Miklan. Get rid of this disgusting cuckoo hatchling before he pushes you from the nest!” _

Miklan’s eyes wandered over to the pillar. It did look pretty weak; he was surprised the wall hadn’t crushed it already. It would be so easy…

“No…” he breathed, right before his stomach lurched violently. Miklan whirled around and emptied the contents of his stomach onto the dry ground.  _ No, _ he thought, spitting to get rid of the sick taste in his mouth.  _ No, I swore I wouldn’t hurt Sylvain anymore. I  _ swore  _ it! _

Turning back to his little brother, Miklan wedged himself into the gap and braced his shoulder against the wall. As he pushed the rubble away from the ground, he pulled Sylvain out of the gap and onto the clear ground beside them. When he was sure the younger Gautier wouldn’t be crushed, Miklan let the wall fall, finally destroying the broken pillar. The resulting crash echoed across the monastery grounds, but there wasn’t any real way around that.

Miklan heard the demonic beasts getting closer, no doubt drawn by the sudden noise. He swore under his breath and lifted Sylvain in his arms. There wasn’t enough time to make sure his little brother was uninjured. So, as he ran off, making a beeline for the mountains he knew the rest of the monastery would be retreating to, he hoped that he wasn’t inadvertently hurting Sylvain even more.

“Sorry, Byleth,” Miklan huffed, sparing one last glance at Garreg Mach. “But you’re tough. You’ll survive… somehow.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Miklan wasn’t sure how long he’d been running. Time lost meaning when all he could focus on was setting one foot in front of the other. By the time he was certain they weren’t being pursued, the ex-Gautier felt ready to collapse. And if he’d been alone, he might have done so.

“Think we’re safe,” Miklan panted as he set his little brother down and checked for major injuries.

Sylvain was covered in cuts and bruises, but nothing still bleeding. A soft bump on the back of his head was probably to blame for his lack of consciousness, and his right leg was a bit swollen. Beyond that, the younger Gautier brother seemed largely unharmed.

“Good…” Miklan sighed. He sunk to the ground himself, taking a minute to catch his breath and rest his aching muscles. Without a task to focus on, his mind began to wander.

He thought about the forests in northern Faerghus, with their short pines that stubbornly grew along the mountainsides. Margrave Gautier had once taken Miklan riding into the mountains near their estate, and the ex-Gautier could still remember how clean the air smelled. Even his father’s dispassionate explanation of the dangers of the region couldn’t dampen his excitement at seeing Gautier lands stretch before him like a sea of green, his awe at the resilient trees that sprouted from the smallest cracks in a cliff.

Now that he thought about it, that was the last happy memory he had of his childhood, as Sylvain was born shortly after. From then on, Miklan’s parents would barely give him the time of day, passing his education and training off to servants and tutors so they could spend more time doting on their Crest-bearing son. Their “true heir”. The “light of their life”.

Miklan was barely an afterthought. Or worse, a spare should the worst come to pass. And oh, how the elder Gautier brother tried to make “the worst” come to pass… so many times…

“Stop thinking about that,” he hissed at himself, shaking those evil thoughts away before they had a chance to spread roots. “You’re a protector. The Demon’s Shield. Miklan. Not a murderer. Not a spare. Not worthless.”

Giving his muscles a long, slow stretch, Miklan picked up his little brother again and kept moving. They didn’t have long until the sun fell below the horizon, and the elder Gautier brother wanted to regroup with anyone he could before he had to set up camp alone.

Sylvain’s head bounced gently off Miklan’s breastplate as he hopped down from a small ledge. The injured man groaned and opened one bleary eye, looking up at his brother but not really seeing him. “Where…” he slurred, as if even his own tongue was too much for him to lift. “Wha…”

Later, Miklan wouldn’t even be able to say why he did what he did next. Perhaps a wave of nostalgia washed over him. Perhaps his mind brought old memories to bear, back to a time when he was too young to be jealous of his baby brother. Perhaps he just felt like being nice. Whatever caused it, Miklan patted Sylvain’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, Syl. Your big brother’s got you.”

He might never have realized what he said if Sylvain hadn’t started sobbing softly right after the words left his mouth. “Bro… ther…” he cried against Miklan’s armor, trying ineffectually to curl up like a frightened child.

Miklan was used to Sylvain being scared around him, but usually he was the cause of his brother’s fright. Now, it was almost like the younger Gautier brother, in his injured and disoriented state, was reaching out to him for comfort. Giving comfort was… not something he had experience with.

“Uh… y-yeah,” Miklan said, continuing to pat Sylvain’s shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture. “I’m right here. We’re gonna get you some medical attention, ‘kay?”

The younger Gautier brother nodded slowly and relaxed, drifting back to sleep. Given how often his mere presence made Sylvain bolt in fear, Miklan was astonished that his little brother felt safe enough to close his eyes at all.

_ Probably just doesn’t realize who’s carrying him, _ Miklan thought.  _ That makes sense. Must think I’m Felix or Dimitri or someone… Yeah, that’s it. _ But in his heart, he knew it couldn’t be that simple. Sylvain specifically called him “brother”. So, unless their mother had pushed out another son in the past four years, there was really only one person Sylvain could be referring to.

Miklan shook the thought from his head and focused once more on putting one foot in front of the other.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and critiques are greatly appreciated!


End file.
